Every time I use it, people gape, mouth askew, and demand, “What is that?”

Pomegranate Molasses Cookies

Actually, I have many secret ingredients, and now I have another new series at Serious Eats to showcase them. I love to shop, from Prada to parsley, and I hardly make it out of a gourmet shop without some little bottle of some dashing elixir tucked away for further use. Most of the time, they sound so appealing in the shop, but then they just sit there, alone and neglected in my pantry, and I have buyer’s remorse, just like when a dress goes unworn in my closet.

Pomegranate Molasses BBQ Ribs

So, I’ve taken to experimenting: uncovering esoteric ingredients, and telling you what they are, where they come, and what to do with them, recipes included. March’s Secret Ingredient is one of my all-time favorites: Pomegranate Molasses, cheap and chic (and sweet/tart!). And in this month’s installment, I show you how to make Pomegranate Molasses and Pine Nut Cookies, and Pomegranate Molasses Barbecue Sauce for Pomegranate Molasses BBQ Pork Ribs.

There is a little something you should know about me: I love to shop. And while my closet can attest to that fact, so can my pantry. When I travel I am always sure to devote at least half a day to culinary pursuits—wandering through markets like the Boqueria in Barcelona, or visiting little gourmet shops in Paris. Inevitably, I return laden with corked perfumiers’ bottles of French rose extract, painters’ tubes of Moroccan harissa, and tiny ominous packets of Venetian squid ink. And when I’m grounded back home in the States, I still find excuses to dally around any corner gourmet shop, combing the aisles like a pirate who stands on the X on his map and expects, rightly so, to uncover unprecedented treasure.

I get a secret thrill when I bring out of these little bottles or jars, and guinea pig them on my friends and family. Inevitably, eyes widen in delight and speculation, and a general chorus echoes down the table: “Mmm! What is that?” I love revealing the answer: “Orange flower water!” “No!” “Yes.” All of a sudden everyone at the table feels like they are sharing in a gourmet adventure, whisked away to some corner of a forgotten world where everyone sits around snacking on orange flower water and Raz-el-Hanout. What they don’t know is that I paid less than three dollars for a bottle of the stuff just across town at Fairway.

I didn’t know this about myself before, but I’m cheap. At least, these days it’s quite a la mode to be a recessionista. I went to the store to do this week’s French in a Flash for Serious Eats, and realized I was making dinner for 5 for about $12. I became totally ecstatic, like I’d just gotten away with the hugest deal of the century, and I wanted to run out of Publix before anyone caught on. Stingy never felt, or tasted, so good!

Puy Lentils

I made this dish for my father, because according to Brillat-Savarin (the French genius behind the statement “you are what you eat”), my father is a salmon disguised as a New York lawyer. He eats it every night, and he also can’t boil water. I wanted to show him that he could eat his favorite healthy food, and still make it himself. Voila! Crispy Salmon with Lentils du Puy and Two-Mustard Crème Fraîche.

Salmon and lentils are Fred and Ginger to the French; the perfect pas de deux partners. And nothing could be healthier, or easier, or more impressive. Bon app!

Salmon, Lemon, Carrot, Shallot, Thyme, and Lentils

Crispy Salmon with Lentils du Puy and Two-Mustard Crème Fraîche

serves 4

Ingredients

1 small carrot, diced as finely as possible

2 small shallots, diced as finely as possible

1 tablespoon olive oil, plus 1 tablespoon

Leaves of 2 stems fresh thyme

Salt and pepper

1 1/4 cups lentils du Puy

1/3 cup dry white wine

3 1/2 cups vegetable stock or water

1 tablespoon freshly chopped flat leaf parsley

1 1/4 pounds salmon fillet, skin on, cut into 4 portions

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature

2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 cup crème fraîche

2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

2 tablespoon whole grain mustard

Zest of 1 lemon

Fresh thyme, lemon slices, and mixed olives for garnish

Procedure

Begin by making the lentils. Over medium-low heat, sauté the carrots and shallot in 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Season them with the thyme leaves, salt, and pepper, and cook for 5 minutes, until they are just sweating and soft and fragrant.

Add in the lentils, and season again with salt and pepper.

Increase the heat to high, and pour in the white wine. Stir, and cook until the wine is absorbed. Add the stock or water. Cover, and bring to a boil. Once the water boils, reduce the heat to low, keep covered, and cook for around 25 minutes, until the lentils are tender, but still have a good bite to them, and hold their shape. Drain out any excess liquid, and toss with the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil, and the parsley. Adjust seasonings as needed.

For the salmon, season the fillets with salt and pepper on both sides, and paint the soft butter on the skin side of the salmon. Use all of it, even if it looks excessive. This is what makes the skin so crispy and perfect.

Heat a large sauté pan on medium heat, and add the 2 tablespoons olive oil. When it shimmers, carefully add the salmon, skin side down. It will splatter a bit, so drop the salmon into the pot slowly, and away from you. Cook for 5 minutes, then turn over, and cook for 3 minutes, or until you've achieved desired doneness.

While the salmon cooks, prepare the mustard crème fraîche. Stir together the crème fraîche, 2 mustards, and lemon zest, and season with salt and pepper.

To serve this dish, spoon a mound of the lentils on a plate, and perch the salmon on top. Spoon the crème fraîche over the hot fish, and let it melt into the filet and into the lentils. Serve more sauce alongside. Garnish with a few lemon slices, some fresh twigs of thyme, and a few mixed olives.

How many times has your mother told you she’s no spring chicken? My maman tells me, usually, when I’m home, and she wants me to walk the dog, or run to the store, or lift something heavy–otherwise, to her chagrin, she is very spring chickenly. If your mom is like mine, make her feel young again on UK Mother’s Day! Make her spring chicken.

When Joel at the BBC asked me to do a Mothers’ Day menu, I considered it a very important, special assignment. I’m not sure there’s a better way to make the day special for maman than by doing what she’s always traditionally done for you: cooking. I would advise, of course, that you also purchase some jewelry, and tuck it into her cloth napkin. That never hurts.

The idea for this meal comes from the dichotomy of mother hen, and baby vegetables. Think of all the roast chickens your mother has made for you in your life. Cornish hens, or poussins, taste very similar to chicken, but can be elegantly and individually portioned. That’s the idea: take something simple, everyday, with which you’re familiar, and dress it up. I make this in the style of Normandy, coincidentally where my stepfather is from. Hey, if she likes one think from Normandy, chances are she’ll like another! I marinate the poussins overnight in cidre buche, a dry sparkling (and inexpensive) apple cider packed in Champagne bottles in Normandy. Then, I roast it with thyme, pancetta, and Calvados, an apple brandy, along with little pearl onions (what little girl hasn’t worn her mother’s pearls?) that become sweet little gems.

Because the dainty little hens are butterflied, they crisp up front and back, and stay overwhelmingly moist and flavorful from the apple liquors and the pancetta. To go with them, because Mothers’ Day falls just days after the start of spring, I put together a panoply of baby vegetables–from tiny zucchini and sunburst squash to spring peas and Chantenay carrots. They are simply braised with water and butter, and made decadent with creme fraiche. Everything here is dainty, flavorful, light, and, above all, thoughtful, but easy. This is actually one of the easiest meals I’ve ever created, and one of the ones of which I am most proud–proving that you don’t have to work too hard to make a dinner that is as special as your mom always made you feel.

Spring Vegetables with Crème Fraîche and Chives

Dedicated to toutes les mamans! Bonne journée…

To catch the replay of this episode on Joel Hammer’s BBC Radio Oxford Sunday Lunch, visit BBC’s iPlayer. Today’s show should be up later today, or early tomorrow. I hope you enjoy, and that you make this incredible Norman hens! The website with playback links and the recipes is not up yet, but I am assured it will be up by the next installment.

It had been a long drive, and we were famished. I leaned back in the wrought iron chair, and plucked another fry from the red carton. I closed my eyes to the sun, and when I opened them again, I knew I was in France. Lavender was growing in the McDonald’s parking lot.

Lavender from Provence

I know what I just wrote; please don’t judge me. Yes, I passed up a perfectly good opportunity to eat French food in France, and I went to McDonald’s. But in my mind, any road trip gives me license to enjoy fast food, and I tend to take advantage of my little maxim–even if it’s a road trip to Provence. At least I ordered French fries.

Lavender is ubiquitous in Provence (yes, even at McDonald’s), and I use it in this star-treatment-for-boxed-cake-mix recipe for Serious Eats: Crème Fraîche Cupcakes with Provence Lavender Icing . Hey, French in a Flash is all about fast food, from McDonald’s, to Duncan Hines. The point is to personalize it, make it your own, and make it good. I alter the package directions by using creme fraiche, which makes the crumbs light as air, and make an oh-so-simple glaze with sugar, water, and dried lavender blossoms. Truly French in a flash…bon app!

Crème Fraîche Cupcakes with Lavender

makes about 20 cupcakes

Ingredients

1 box classic white cake mix (recommended: Duncan Hines)

2 egg whites

1/4 cup vegetable oil

8 ounces crème fraîche

3 cups powdered sugar

1 tablespoon dried edible lavender blossoms

5 tablespoons water

Procedure

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line two muffin tins with cupcake papers that you think complements the color of lavender. I used pastel pink and blue. Prim and lovely. Purple, if you find it, would of course be ideal. Treat your cupcakes as if they were Parisians: they should dress to their advantage.

In a large bowl, combine the cake mix, egg whites, vegetable oil, and crème fraîche with a hand-held mixer on a low speed, until the cake mix just disappears into the batter. Then, turn up the speed to medium, and combine for 3 more minutes.

Pour the batter into the cupcake liners, 3/4 of the way up. Set the muffin tins on a baking sheet, and bake for 20 minutes, until the cupcakes are golden and puffed up.

Meanwhile, make the lavender glaze. Stir together the sugar, lavender, and water until you have a smooth icing.

Once the cupcakes have baked, let them cool slightly in the muffin tins, then transfer them to a cooling rack to cool completely. If you ice them while they are still hot, the icing will melt, run off the cupcakes, and the only thing that will taste of sweet lavender is you counter top.

When the cupcakes are completely cool, and not a moment before, drizzle them with the lavender icing. Allow the glazed cupcakes to sit and set for 15 minutes, then serve, preferably with some Marquis Grey Tea. (Just put some lavender into a tea ball, and then drop it along with some Earl Grey tea bags into a tea pot full of hot water. You can also do this alongside Chamomile Tea—even more calming for an upset stomach.)